Space Fever
by thejapanesemapletree
Summary: Is it possible to hate someone so much that you're allergic to them? (Or: An AU where Lance is allergic to Galra dander.)


**A/N:** Taking "I'm sick of you" to the next level.

.

It was halfway Keith's fault, Lance decided.

Really, he _had_ to put effort into how easy it was to dislike him. No person who even had the notion of wanting friends would act so aloof, to the point that Lance only caught glimpses of him between classes at the Garrison and only heard his name when he was congratulated for whatever thing he had bested Lance at that week. Lance was not ashamed to say he got a little thrill when he heard the news that Keith dropped out of the program altogether, but it also angered him further because Lance was supposed to prove he was the better by training and action, not just because the top of the class washed out. What kind of cruel twist of fate was that?

Lance continued his streak of luck when the universe saw to put him on team Voltron with _Keith._

And he did not appear keen upon giving up his indifference anytime soon. In fact, he had the audacity to belittle Lance, with an attitude more suited to a middle school cheerleader than a nearly-adult man.

 _"Someone_ got us stuck on the other side of a wormhole."

Lance's nostrils flared. He butted his forehead to Keith's and spoke right in his face.

"I'll stick _you_ in a wormhole!"

Lance did not expect to get quite that angry, but his face literally burned from agitation. Keith furrowed his features and looked ready to whip back a retort, if not the unexpected getting the better of them and Lance sneezing in his face.

" _Gross!"_ Keith jerked away, sputtering and scrubbing across his face with his sleeve. "What the heck, Lance?"

Lance had taken to clutching at his nose, where the painful itch inside his nasal cavities was nearly unbearable. He spared Keith a sharp glance, moving his hand away so he would not sound like he was honking when he spoke.

"Blame yourself!" he snapped. "All that dust from the desert must've gotten to me. And who took us _there?"_

"Alright, that's enough," Shiro broke in to make peace. Lance tossed up his arms, the image broken when he sneezed again. Perfect.

Nevertheless, despite Keith being impossible, Lance made efforts not to outright murder him—being saviors of the universe and all. And after a while, as the team grew closer, Lance found at moments Keith could be tolerable, and even a valuable asset to the team. Lance could even stand being chained to him, albeit briefly and with a spacesuit keeping their hands from actually touching (ew), if it involved a food fight in which they triumphed over Allura and Coran. Yes: _tolerable._

At least he thought so until his body told him otherwise.

On one occasion, part of Lance's spacesuit had been damaged. It was an easy fix, but Lance took it as an excuse to show up to breakfast in the robe he used for pajamas. He was going to change right after, he thought to say if anyone asked, but there was no need. There seemed to be a collective conscious that morning—a little too much trust that they would not have to jump into their lions at a moment's notice—whereas everyone came around the table in casual clothes a little more comfortable than paladin armor. Lance accepted their shared weariness with quiet reservation, and he went through the motions of getting his goo and sitting at the table.

He did not know who designated that his place at the table was next to Keith, but that is how it was, and he was not in the spirits to complain about it now. Keith ate his goo in a weird half-state of not seeming tired, but also not seeming well rested, which came from his tense worry about what the next minute or hour or day would hold. Lance eyed him from the side and decided to give him grace from being wrapped up in his own insecurities, yawning just to pretend he was not really that interested.

"'Morning," he muttered, stretching very purposefully into Keith's personal space and causing him to snap up from his food and glare at Lance. He shifted to the other end of his seat.

"Good morning," he replied much more harshly. Lance grinned and rubbed his shoulder to Keith's.

"Aw, do you not like it when I-?"

Again, that terrible burning sensation came to Lance's nose. Only this time, he had the mind to duck away, and he just made it in time to sneeze into his other elbow. Lance groaned as the action only made the pain worse, and Keith's expression turned to that of confusion. His nose still in his arm, Lance sat up to repay the glare from before.

"Dude, what soap do you use?" Lance managed before he sneezed again.

"The same kind we all do?" Keith's reply tinged a question. It was not soap so much as some futuristic cleansing oil that was supposed to be unscented, but to Lance smelled a little like citrus. If not that, then:

"When was the last time you _used_ it?" he tried that approach, and Keith's mouth set into a firm line at the poke towards his grooming habits.

"Last night," he said with very little inflection.

"Apparently, you didn't use it enough! Because— "

Lance sneezed again. Per usual, their fight was getting them nowhere, and Keith really did not want to stay around Lance sneezing out what little brains he had into his elbow. He rose from his chair with sheltered plate in hand to finish his meal elsewhere. Keith no longer blocking his view of Lance, Hunk gave him a sympathetic glance, which quickly turned mortified as warning flowered in his chest. He shot up and swooped in next to Lance, which startled him coming down from his last sneeze.

"Lance—what's wrong with your neck?"

Lance looked taken aback.

"What? My neck?"

Perhaps the slightest bit concerned, Keith paused before he exited the room completely. Hunk set to work at once, tilting Lance's head sidelong and angling his arm down to look at the soft sides of his neck. It took him but a moment to recognize the inflamed red welts against his skin, and Hunk's body reactively shivered at something it saw as illness. But also not wanting to leave poor Lance leaned to the side with panic for his own wellbeing in his eyes, Hunk backed off and cleared his throat.

"It's like… a rash."

"What? A rash? Ah—Keith!"

Lance gave Keith another nasty look, which Keith readily returned.

"You made me sneeze, now you gave me a rash!" Lance snapped. "Really—take a shower or something!"

"Whatever," Keith huffed, and left for good this time. Shiro regarded Lance willfully for his (unneeded) choice words, while Pidge hurried from the other side of the table to assess the rash herself.

"Hum." She adjusted her glasses and peered through them at the bumps along Lance's neck. "It does appear you are having an immune response to something in the environment, if the sneezing and skin irritation are anything to go by."

"It's Keith." Lance smacked his hand over his face woefully. "Our rivalry's come full circle: I hate him so much that I'm _allergic_ to him."

Allura and Coran exchanged quick glances at all of Lance's dramatics. Allura cleared her throat politely to take the attention from Lance's whining and folded her hands atop the table.

"I'm sorry, is Lance… ill?" She did not know how to go about asking what was happening. "Is that what it is?"

"Not exactly." Pidge stepped away just in time for Lance to nearly flip back in his chair, and that left Hunk scrambling to catch him as they both screamed and Shiro sighed. "Oh! Do Alteans not have allergies?"

"Well… It is an immune response, correct?" Allura tried to sort through it. "From some sort of stimulus?"

"More like an over-response," Pidge clarified. "When the immune system reacts to a threat that is not really a threat, like plant pollen or animal fur."

"Ah!" Coran held up a finger. "Like those in the mountains planting Jeul flowers around their homes because the scent would drive away Mok-Als! Getting too close would cause the spikes in their fur to fall off."

Pidge pursed her lips. "Um… sure."

"In that case, if it is so minor," Allura said as she stood, "I can trust for Lance's skin to clear up on its own?"

"Aw, but Princess!" Now properly seated, Lance waved his arms, and almost fell out of the chair again. "I don't want to suffer waiting for it to go away! Can't I spend a little time in the cryopod, just to help?"

"Those pods are for serious injuries!" Coran reminded him.

"This is serious! My beautiful complexion is _ruined!_ How am I supposed to pilot the Blue Lion knowing that?"

Although his antics caused simultaneous groans and head shakes, Lance had to withstand the long, itchy hour it took for the rash to dissipate. And after it all, due in part to his longer-than-necessary enduring of irritated skin and nostrils, Lance steered clear of Keith whenever possible, only approaching him when the safety of a sealed spacesuit kept his skin away from whatever horrible diseases Keith carried in that disgusting mullet of his—half of them probably not yet known to humankind. It was like the manga trope of one character breaking out in hives around the opposite sex, and Lance was not enthusiastic about playing the part of the character constantly covered in itchy bumps for comedic effect. If he wanted to be funny he would do it on his own terms, thank you very much. And he was not going to be the butt of a joke because of _Keith_.

Lance just had to keep away from Keith until they saved the universe—simple enough. And when they were around each other, they usually wore their spacesuits, so it was not a big deal. Sometimes, the worry of catching another rash hardly crossed his mind.

Lance really thought he would be safe going to the pool.

Or maybe he was so exhausted he did not think of all the nightmare scenarios that could happen with him in only a pair of swimming trunks, like bashing into Keith while in the hallway and having his entire chest break out or the more unlikely situation of Keith _finally_ cutting his hair and the loose strands filtering around the castle ventilation system to come and suffocate him. Whatever the case, Lance did not expect to run into Keith, much less on the elevator on the way to the pool.

Lance felt his skin crawl and heartbeat kick up when he saw Keith push apart the elevator doors, and not in a good way, like when that cute alien girl laughed at his jokes. It was more like the feeling when she stole his lion and drove away on her spaceship, which put Lance immediately on edge. He blurted out his hostility without thinking.

"What are you doing?"

Keith did not raise his head, maybe because he did not want his towel to fall or maybe because he did not care enough to. He sort of half-stumbled into the elevator, and the door slid closed.

"Allura said there's a pool… I'm going to go check it out." His drained voice matched his loose footwork. "What about you?"

"Same thing." Lance stepped closer to the wall when he felt his side nearest Keith begin to prickle in warning. It did not go unnoticed.

"Look." Keith was not in the mood to fight, so he tried to be peaceable. "You stay on one side of the pool, and I'll stay on the other, and we'll be far, far away from each other."

Lance hummed in agreement. And it would have been a brilliant plan, if the elevator had not stopped and the lights gone out.

There was hope for a moment that it was just a little hiccup in the castle's power as Coran or Pidge messed around, but that hope was lost when the long line of lights up the elevator flickered on and the elevator itself remained motionless. Keith murmured something he was fortunate Shiro did not hear him say and slumped against the other wall. Lance was relieved he put himself further away.

"Perfect," Keith hissed through his teeth, staring up at the expanse of lights.

"Looks like we're stuck." Lance made an astute observation.

For him, that meant plopping on the floor. For Keith, the sarcasm only made his drive to escape greater, and perhaps propelled his problem thinking skills in the right direction.

"Look—Lance." Keith sat down as well. "Can we reach when we sit together? Back to back?"

"Whoa, I'm not doing that." Lance held up his hands as Keith pushed off the wall with his feet and scooted halfway across the space.

He was in the perfect place to spin around and glare at Lance.

"Do you want to get out of here or not?" he practically accused Lance of blatant stupidity.

Lance had the same glare and barbed tongue to return, "Of course I do! It's not like we're going to be here forever. Someone will notice we're missing."

"And when, pray tell, will that be?" Keith asked. "A minute? Five minutes? An hour?"

Lance exhaled loudly. Keith was just baiting him to make a fool of himself, wasn't he?

"Keith, my man," Lance said gently so he would not upset Keith's temperament further. "The last time we were so close it _honest to God_ gave me a rash, and it wasn't pretty. I don't know if it is your sweat or what, but being around you gives me _the worst_ allergies. Even being in this confided space is making my nose start to itch—ugh."

Keith perhaps wanted to offer another insult at how dumb Lance was acting, but he got a grip and said nothing of the like. Lance was trying to be honest with him, and Keith could respect that, no matter how idiotic his logic of being allergic to another human being was.

"Then we'd better get out of here quickly." Keith took the towel off his head. "We can put a towel between our backs if you're so concerned."

"No, nu-uh, nope." Lance pulled his own towel off his neck. "If we have to use a towel, we're using mine, because I can trust that at least one side hasn't touched you yet."

If that drove Lance to agree on his escape plan, Keith was not going to complain. At least until they started their climb, and Lance started noticeably heaving even though he tried to hide it under the push of his feet and normal breathing. Although they had the towel, with the gradual twist of their bodies it worked its way down to their lower backs, and that left most of Lance's back and arms exposed. And to top it all off, Lance had periodic violent sneezing fits, and Keith had to wait the minute or so for them to pass. Their progress was excruciatingly slow, and Keith was on track to resign their attempt and let them slide back down, especially when Lance said:

"Keith, I think I'm going to throw up."

The mere words caused Keith's mouth to taste sour. Keith glanced behind him and saw the brief image of Lance looking like he wanted to curl in on himself, with his head hung and mouth open in gasping breaths. Keith squeezed their interlaced arms closer and pulled them up mostly himself with the next step.

"Why's that?" Keith figured Lance wanted a response, and he gave it.

"My back is on _fire,"_ Lance explained. "And it's causing my spine to hurt and messing with my stomach. I _literally_ feel like I'm being stabbed with a hundred hot knives."

"C'mon—don't flake on me now." Keith took another step, and this time Lance helped. "We're almost there."

Lance managed a smile. "You're lying."

To Keith's surprise, he was not. The door in the wall shined like the heavily gates, and Keith could not have been more thankful. He yanked Lance upright to see.

"Lance! Look!"

Lance craned his head around, and relief flooded his features at the sight of the door.

"Oh, thank God."

With renewed vigor, reaching the door took half the time it should have, and soon Keith busted open the door like the trained thug he probably was (How else do you explain him being able to save Shiro like he did? Why else would he live in a shack alone?), and they went sliding down the vent hopefully towards the pool—or infirmary in Lance's instance. Unfortunately for him, the vent did lead to the pool, though not directly _into_ it, and they both yelled as they dropped from the ceiling and landed painfully on the floor. Lance, who managed spectacularly to fall on his face, groaned and would not move. Beside him, Keith rubbed his bruised backside and found the pool they had so hoped to relax in.

"I—what?" Keith scowled at the pool floating on the ceiling like nobody's business. "Stupid Altean pools!"

"Oh, Keith…" Lance moaned loud enough to be heard although his mouth was mushed into the ground. "Please tell Allura I love her."

"Lance, what— _Oh my God!"_ Keith physically, and probably metaphysically and spiritually, retracted from the sight before him. _"What happened to you?"_

Due to Lance's position, Keith got a full view of his back: and what a _view_ it was. Bright red, angry bumps adorned the majority of Lance's back, with sections near his arms where they had rubbed with Keith's looking particularly raw and painful. Lance peeled his mouth away from the ground just to frown at Keith, and Keith was grateful for the distraction from his inflamed skin. (Although he could not say Lance's face was a better alternative).

"I told you," Lance reminded him, or rather quipped from being in the right all along. "I'm allergic to you."

"I… oh," Keith did not know how else to respond, and Lance just returned to planting his face to the floor. With how bad his back looked, Keith did not blame him.

"Just leave me here to die," Lance begged him.

"I'm not leaving you here to die," Keith sighed. "We still need you to pilot the Blue Lion."

Again, Lance whimpered into the floor. Of course it would not be that easy.

Somehow, they made it back to the others, and Lance's rash went away after a while. Keith could not figure out why anything he had done made Lance react in such a way, and the mystery was set aside as other occurrences took priority, such as the meeting with the Blade of Marmora and journey into the Weblum and planning of a new teluday. And in that time Lance did not approach him with any theories, so Keith thought to leave it just as it was: something unimportant to sort through when they had the time after all the hustle of saving the universe. They also never really had time to talk with just the two of them, and it is not like either particularly wanted to be alone with the other, so it was just happenstance that Keith entered the control room and found Lance looking at the star map.

He did not jump like he had been caught doing something embarrassing, but he did acknowledge the doors opening and looked over his shoulder. He was kicked back on one of the stairs with his jacket hanging lazily on his arms, and to Keith's surprise Lance did not cringe when he stepped into the light of the map. Lance simply turned back to looking at the stars, and Keith took him not ordering him to leave as an invitation to join him. Keith sat a comfortable distance away and looked at the map projected throughout the room.

A thousand galaxies and stars and planets he could not hope to identify greeted him, in the cold nameless way a computer would when it was switched on. The area was so vast and the planets so numerous and the points of light so similar that Keith could not know what made them special and unique—or if there were even people to think they were. There could be people on the planets who admired how the wind would blow a certain way or how the mountains outlined the sky, but to the Galra, the planets were just space: something to take and call their own just for the sake of saying they could. The thought made a knot of resentment bob in Keith's throat. Fortunately, Lance drew him from his thoughts, speaking in a slow and sweet way liked spilled honey.

"Keith… Do you ever miss home?"

Keith turned his eyes from the map to look at Lance briefly. He then turned back, watching the spin of a galaxy with two arms much like their own.

"I miss the stability of it," he answered. "I don't have much else to miss."

Lance nodded sagely. For once, he had the sensitivity not to tease him.

"Hey." Hesitantly, Keith put a hand on his shoulder. "I know for you— "

Lance shivered like he had been shocked. Keith realized his mistake instantly and lurched away, Lance scooting further over to be out of arm's reach. He shuddered again and pulled up his coat, hiding the side of his neck Keith was sure had become irritated although it was too dark to see. Keith put his hands in his lap and looked down.

"I'm sorry," he said sincerely. "I forgot."

Lance paused his fussy movements to give Keith a suspicious look. He could not remember if Keith had ever apologized to him before, and he did not know how to take it now. Eventually, Lance's stubborn streak took over, and he smacked his hands on the floor to startle Keith from his brooding.

"Alright, we're figuring this out. _Now."_

Keith gave Lance a blank stare of misunderstanding. Lance braved to worm a foot closer.

"We're figuring out why _this_ happens." Lance pointed to his swollen neck. "Right here and now."

Keith blanched, "How?"

Lance grinned. "By process of elimination! We just have to find out what's different between you and everything else!"

Keith's face firmed skeptically. Lance relaxed into a more comfortable poise like before and held out one finger.

"So you don't wear perfume…"

"Where would I even _find_ perfume?"

Lance held out another finger. "And you use the same soap as all of us…"

"… Yes."

Another. "And your clothes are washed the same way…"

"Yes."

"And you sweat the same sweat…" Lance trailed off with the fourth finger. He stared at Keith, his fingers still out.

"No, you don't."

Keith made a funny face. Lance hopped up and retracted three fingers to point at Keith with just one.

"You're part Galra!" he shouted. "That's it!"

 _"What?"_ Keith almost fumbled his words. "Lance—wait, calm down."

Lance would not. He paced around the stairs, his thoughts whirling in his head and out his mouth.

"That _has_ to be it." He held his chin. "Otherwise, what would it be? It must be similar to someone being allergic to cat fur. You have some Galra DNA in your skin and hair, and when it touched me—bam! Allergies. It all makes sense!"

 _"Lance,"_ Keith repeated, sharper this time, and Lance spun to look at him. "If that's the case, and let's say you _are_ allergic to Galra skin or fur or whatever, why do you only have reactions around me?"

Lance rubbed his chin. "Well… When we sneak onto Galra ships, I have my spacesuit on, so that prevents anything from coming in contact with me; I think I didn't have a reaction that one time we were chained together because of the spacesuit, too. I don't go flaunting myself unprotected around Galra soldiers, you know."

"What about the time Sendak took over the castle?" Keith ignored the last part. "You didn't have your helmet on then."

"I don't think he or Haxus actually touched my skin." Lance recollected the fuzzy memory he had of the event. "And I went in the cryopod right after. That would have cleared any rash right up."

Keith frowned and shook his head. Lance met his eyes, his hand still on his chin.

"The only Galra I leave myself exposed to is… you."

Something in Lance's expression softened, and Keith blinked at that reaction after his intense revelation. But just as swiftly Lance put the emotion in check, and his vulnerability vanished, and he was back to his obnoxious self for better or worse.

"So… Yeah! It must be something with Galra dander," Lance concluded. "I wonder if other species are allergic to things—or other humans allergic to Galra!"

Keith shrugged one shoulder. "Who knows?"

"Someone has to, like some universal health organization or something— "

"It's a _figure of speech_ , Lance."

Lance's mouth curved wolfishly. "Do you think they would know how to help you tolerate sarcasm?"

"Do you think they would know how to help me tolerate _you?"_

Lance leaned over Keith as close as he dared. "What, like a love potion?"

Keith's disposition remained unmoved, but he felt the slightest bit of heat graze his ears. Lance laughed at his own joke, and Keith was not going to take that bit of mockery while Lance goaded over him.

"You're walking on thin ice, McClain," Keith used the same unimpressed tone he always did with Lance. "Now that you've shown me a weakness, don't think I won't exploit it."

"Keith— _no! Stop!"_ Lance screamed as Keith shot up and grabbed his face between his hands. _"No, my complexion!"_

"You should have thought of that before!" Keith let out a half-breath laugh as Lance tried to wrestle away.

"Ah, _quiznak_ , it's already starting to burn—!"

Lance sneezed so hard he almost fell backwards into the star map, and Keith laughed openly at his frustrations. This time, Lance only had himself to blame.

.

 **A/N:** Self care is staying as far away from Keith as possible.


End file.
